


Give Me a Moment

by Mazarin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-15 18:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazarin221b/pseuds/Mazarin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If John wakes up with his cock in Sherlock’s mouth again, he might actually stroke out." Utter PWP. Velvet_Mace over on LJ requested Top!Sherlock, so I thought I'd have a try at it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Give Me a Moment

If John wakes up with his cock in Sherlock’s mouth again, he might actually stroke out.

He’s not sure if this is going to be a regular occurrence to get used to, considering the first time was – he checks the clock – oh, about seven hours ago.

“Sherlock,” he gasps, “I appreciate the gesture but – oh, GOD – a little warning might go a long way.”

Sherlock pulls off with an obscene slurp that has John’s eyes rolling back into his head. “You’ve slept for two hours.  Surely that’s plenty of time to recover.”

“Yes, well, I’d not have slept so long if you hadn’t decided to ride me through the mattress. And the shower afterward didn’t help, either.”

John goes back to that morning when he woke up almost exactly like he did now, with his cock in Sherlock’s mouth and a start of surprise on his lips that died as soon as realized who it was and what was happening.  Yes, it was Sherlock, and one of the more shocking things he’s done to boot, but he was still a man, and a blowjob’s a blowjob however you dice it. So, he simply hung on to that glorious mop and tried to think about football scores and Mrs. Hudson naked to make it last.

They’d been dancing around each other for weeks and the tension in the cab on the way home from the Yard the night before had been so suffocating John beat a retreat upstairs to bed.  He’d planned to confront Sherlock in the morning, after he’d slept a bit, but, as in all things, Sherlock beat him to it.

Sherlock drags him back to the present by plastering his naked body to John’s side, his erection poking John in the hip. “John. Pleasant though this morning has been so far, it’s far from over. Let’s save the reminiscing for a more convenient time.” His voice drops to a growl. “I want to fuck you. You said earlier that you were ready for me. Are you still?”

John shudders and does a quick self-assessment. Yes, he’s ready, but Sherlock’s going to have to earn it. “I did shag you six ways to Sunday just a couple of hours ago. I’m surprised you aren’t still sleeping yourself.”  John stretches languidly, letting the pleasant memory of being lodged snugly inside Sherlock’s body overtake him and allowing a smile to drift across his face. Sherlock growls, losing his patience and grabs John by the shoulder and hip, shoving him over onto his stomach. John groans, all pretence of indifference gone when he feels that talented wet tongue trace its way down his spine.

“You’re going to be such _work_ ,” he murmurs against John’s back, hot breath raising gooseflesh across his skin.  His hands slide up to grip Johns hips, raising him up on his knees and leaving his rear exposed and open.  John gasps when he feels Sherlock’s finger trace down the crease of his arse, circling and pressing against his hole, teasing and probing. A second hand sneaks between his bent knees and grasps his erection, stroking him languidly, setting up a delicious rhythm that has John almost undone. When he feels Sherlock’s finger withdraw, only to be replaced by a hot, wet tongue, John bucks and cries out, swearing. He’s trembling, struggling to support himself on his elbows, realizing he’s being paid back in kind for earlier this morning. He’s not sure he can take much more without collapsing.

“Come on, dammit,” he hisses, “Now, if you want it, you smug bastard.”  Sherlock pulls back and lays a slap to John’s flank that makes him jump.

“Such a mouth on you,” Sherlock says, and leans over to nip his ear. “Patience.” Sherlock presses between John’s shoulder blades, pushing him flat to the bed.  John’s arms are stretched above his head, palms down, and Sherlock presses against his back, lying almost flush on top of him, left hand over John’s left hand, entwining their fingers. His other hand is guiding himself in, pushing against the natural resistance made tighter by the position of John’s body.  It’s tight, almost too tight, and John fights himself to relax.  Sherlock’s panting, tense, going slowly, and once he’s partway in, stops completely, allowing John’s spasming body to accept him.  Once it does, he pushes further, placing his hands on top of John’s wrists, pushing into him until he’s prone against John’s back, pinning him down with his body weight.

It’s all-consuming, his skin burning where Sherlock is laid out against him, barely moving, a subtle roll of his hips twitching his cock inside John’s body.  John still can’t move, other than to tip his hips up, which drives Sherlock deeper. _Move_ , he tries to tell him. _I need you to move._

Sherlock seems to get his wordless message to stop tormenting him, starting to shift his hips, keeping his thrusts short and quick.  It’s still not enough to quench the fire, so he concentrates all of his will on drawing his knees up under him, forcing Sherlock up and behind him. Sherlock, never content, pulls John up until his back is straight, still behind him and using the better angle to drive himself against John’s body, hips slapping against his buttocks.  It’s so deep John can feel it through his entire being, making him shake, almost incapable of doing anything other than holding onto the headboard and trying to remember to keep breathing.  When Sherlock slides a hand around to stroke John’s cock in time with his thrusts, John’s brain sparks out, gasping and cursing as he comes. Sherlock’s not long behind him, with a few sharp thrusts and grasping John’s hips with a cry and shudder.

They slither down on the bed, Sherlock still wrapped around John’s body. John can’t believe he’s sleepy again – but 4 orgasms in less than 8 hours will do that to a bloke.

“Tease me like that again and I’ll tie you up,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s fingers, entwined with his own. In response, Sherlock releases his fingers and reaches out with a ridiculously long arm and opens his bedside drawer. He pulls out a pair of shiny, silver handcuffs and dangles them from one finger.

“We’ll use these,” he says.


End file.
